


maybe it's not an ending, maybe it's a beginning

by Aqua_Artist



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, M/M, Unrequited Love, bucky loves steve but steve doesn't love him back
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 12:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18638119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aqua_Artist/pseuds/Aqua_Artist
Summary: (spoilers for avengers: endgame)steve is old, bucky is having emotions, and sam just wants bucky to stop hogging the shower.





	1. i was happy for you

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this real quick because i've been having big emotions about the ending of endgame and needed to work through it with fic. there will definitely be more. song and chapter titles taken from press restart by walk the moon.

"Hey," says Sam, banging on the bathroom door. "How long does it take one person to take a shower? Are you moving in or something?"

"It's a lot more difficult with only one arm," Bucky yells back at him. He's perfectly aware of the fact that his voice is already louder by nature of him being in the shower; he just feels like being an ass. This -- his banter with Sam -- is one of the only things that has felt normal ever since. Well. 

"Can't be that much more difficult," says Sam. "You've been in there for, what, forty minutes? It's a good thing that we literally live in a mansion, otherwise you would definitely be paying my water bill for the month."

"You just don't appreciate what it's like to have beautiful long hair."

"And you don't appreciate how nice my goatee is."

"How is that relevant?"

"It's not really. I'm just saying, it deserves to be appreciated -- that's not the point. The point is, I want my shower back."

Bucky doesn't really have a good comeback to that. It is, after all, Sam's shower -- this is his pseudo-apartment in the mansion. Bucky had an apartment made for him when the mansion was rebuilt, attached to Steve's, but, well. He doesn't really feel like being there right now. So, Bucky doesn't have a good comeback right now, but he does have the next best thing.

"Hey, could you give a guy a chance to enjoy a shower? It's nice to take a hot shower after seventy years of being frozen."

"Mm, sorry, that trauma excuse isn't gonna work on me. Steve's pulled that one on me way too many times for it to work now."

There's relative silence for a moment, just the sound of the shower running. Bucky rests against the wall with his right arm, letting the near-scalding water wash over him.

"He wants to talk to me today. I mean, what the hell am I going to say? What is there to talk about?" Bucky's protected by the wall that separates him from Sam, and if a tear escapes his eye, no one will ever know. Sam's the only one who could understand what he's going through, even if only a small fraction of it. Romanov might have understood, but he never really got to know her. He's grateful for her sacrifice, and that Steve was able to find happiness because of it. And he's happy for Steve. He really, truly is. He just can't find that same happiness himself.

"I knew what he was planning. He wouldn't have left without making sure that I knew. But I couldn't help but hope that... maybe..." He doesn't know if Sam can hear his words, barely more than a whisper, over the running water. He's not sure if he wants Sam to hear them. "Maybe he would realize that there was something in the future that would make coming back worth it." There's a terrible feeling in his stomach. He had known Steve wouldn't change his mind, but he let himself hope anyways.

"Would you have wanted to go with him?" Sam asks. There's no judgement in his voice, and no pity either, just genuine curiosity. Bucky appreciates Sam's straightforward nature. He had thought Steve to be the same way, but Bucky had learned the hard way the value of one of his promises. He can't bring himself to fully trust Sam, but at least he knows that Sam's staying in this time. That's something.

"No." It's the truth. "The future is -- it's so full of promise, and growth, and even if I had to get here the way I did, I would never want to leave. Wakanda is amazing! All their tech, I could never have imagined it." There's another reason why he wouldn't want to go back -- the future is a lot more accepting of people like him -- but he doesn't admit that to Sam. "I want to stay here, and..." He closes his eyes, letting himself grieve for what will never be. "I wanted to share the future with him." He lets out a stifled sob, refusing to let himself cry. "He promised. 'Til the end of the line, he said. He promised. He promised me that. And I thought -- I had thought that maybe, once everything had settled down, I could... we could... maybe... was it so much to ask that I could be the most important person in his life? But he's happy. He really is. So I... I have to let him have that."

"He doesn't know, does he?" Sam asks, after a moment has passed. Bucky drops the bar of soap he's been holding in shock. Sam figured it out. Had he really been that obvious? But... Sam hadn't stated it outright, had let him keep a bit of stability, and he seems to be okay with it. So Bucky answers in truth. 

"No. He never knew."

"He's still out there. You could tell him."

"He's happy now. What good would it do? I don't want him... it's better if he doesn't know." Bucky has carefully hidden any signs of just how much this hurt him from Steve.

"You could get some closure. Try to move on."

"How do you move on from the most important person in your life?"

"Hell if I know. But I do know that neither of us can use time travel to magically fix it, so we just have to work with what we have."

"Oh." The realization hits Bucky. "You, too?"

"Yeah." There's a pause. Bucky can't see it, but he'd guess that Sam is nodding. "Yeah."

"Aren't we just a pair,” he says after letting out a singular, clipped laugh.

"I guess we are. Also, get the hell out of my shower." Something in the shift in Sam's tone from vulnerable to dry lifts a weight off of Bucky's heart. He doesn't understand it yet, but it's something.

"Alright, alright. No respect for old men in these parts," Bucky grumbles, and he turns the water off.


	2. head heart malfunction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for all the comments and kudos! they mean the world to me. enjoy the next chapter!

Bucky's in the middle of preparing lunch when Sam gets out of the shower. He's chosen blue jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a nice red cardigan. Bucky's not sure whether to tease him about dressing like a grandpa or dressing like Captain America. Both of those could lead the conversation in places he doesn't want it to go. He doesn't take advantage of the opportunity, instead going back to chopping up his onions for the french onion soup he's been craving. It doesn't really make sense as a meal to have in the middle of May, but he figures that since he's technically been dead for the past five years, he has license to do whatever he wants. 

Sam walks over to the counter, grabs a handful of the gruyere Bucky's just shredded, stares Bucky down, and eats it.

"You know, I need all of that. It's very important that I keep a precise balance of all of the ingredients, otherwise none of the hard work I'm doing here will be worth it."

"Well, in that case," Sam says, and promptly proceeds to eat all of the gruyere. 

"What the hell was that for?" Yeah, they bicker with each other, but not really like that. Also, that was just way too much cheese to eat at one time, even if it was exclusively done to annoy the other person (Bucky can appreciate that).

"You picked a lunch that takes forever to make," Sam says with a knowing look. "You're not getting out of this that easy. Go talk to him."

"I'm busy," Bucky insists, picking up the cheese and the grater once more.

"Are you?" Sam asks, with that raised eyebrow that gets Bucky every time. It makes him just want to... he doesn't know. For the time being, he's settled on "piss Sam off". "It's been four days. You can't keep avoiding this forever."

"He'll be fine. He's made it clear he doesn't need me around." Bucky's voice is steady and emotionless, but there's a bitter feeling deep in his hard that refuses to let him be completely unfeeling about all of this. He wishes it would go the hell away.

"You really think that?" Sam asks. The other eyebrow is raised now, too.

Bucky doesn't give the question a response. Steve has made himself perfectly clear, and he's okay with that. They both know where they stand with each other.

"I'll let you have shotgun the next time we go to a press event together."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" It's framed as a question, but Bucky already knows the answer. Sam is just too much like Steve for the answer to be anything other than yes.

"Not until you talk to him."

"Fine. I'll... fine." He wasn't getting out of this. "But you're finishing the soup."

"It'll be ready when you get back," Sam says, his eyes carrying a surprising fondness within them. Bucky doesn't know what to make of it. He opens the door into the rest of the mansion for the first time in days and steps outside before he can figure it out.

Bucky steps out into the mansion, feeling lost in its cavernous depths, at once both minimalist and entirely too much. He's come a long way from a tiny apartment in Brooklyn, but in times like this, it doesn't feel like it at all. He misses those days in a way he never thought he would at the time. But that's not entirely right, he thinks to himself. He doesn't miss Brooklyn, or terrible apartments, or the lack of food, or not being able to take nice hot showers whenever he felt like it. He misses Steve.

He wonders what kind of home Steve and Peggy made for themselves once they had settled down. It's easy enough to figure that out, in theory. All he would need to do is talk to Steve. However, that would involve... talking to Steve. That's why he's out here in the first place, but it doesn't mean that he wants to do it.

He wanders into the lounge, drawn in by the sound of Steve's record player. One wall of the lounge is made of giant glass panes, through which he can see a garden that has clearly had much love and care poured into it. Birds flutter around, chirping along with the music. Far in the distance, there's the sound of waves lapping against the shore. It should be relaxing, he knows, but he can't help but think of the Potomac. It's never been a particularly happy memory, but it's acquired a somewhat bittersweet quality now. He can see Steve at the table, his art supplies spilled out across it. Bucky can't help but smile, even if it hurts. He hasn't seen Steve draw since before he fell.

He takes a seat in the back of the room. Steve knows he's here. He may be properly old now, but he still has all the gifts of the serum. He's waiting for Bucky to take the first step, which makes Bucky somehow even more frustrated with him. Even after he left Bucky and this time behind, he's still ridiculously considerate.

"You're drawing," he says, which is maybe the worst possible way to start a conversation with the best friend you've been in love with your entire life who left you to go back in time and live a life with someone else. To be fair, however, there aren't really any precedents for this kind of conversation.

"It's been decades, but I still appreciate that the birds are here. It was so quiet then." Steve's voice sounds old now. It's not the most insightful observation in the world, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hit Bucky like a punch to the gut. There's a difference between knowing that Steve grew old without him and being faced with the reality of it.

"You're old now."

"We're both old, Buck."

"Yeah, but you're properly old."

"Jerk."

"Punk."

For just a moment, he could almost feel like everything was normal.

But it's not.

"I can't do this," he says, barely a whisper. He gets up from the chair just as Steve says "wait" and turns around -- and they lock eyes. Bucky's heart breaks just a little bit more. Steve's face is aged and wrinkled, but his eyes are exactly the same. It's still his Steve, and that makes it worse.

"I thought you knew. I would never have left if I thought you didn't know."

"I knew." Bucky's frozen, except for once not literally but metaphorically. He can't escape now, and it would be weird to sit back down, but he can't risk getting any closer to Steve, either.

"Then..." Steve's voice trails off. He's so clearly, painfully confused. Bucky hates himself for ever having considered that Steve might feel the same way he did.

"Were you happy?" His voice is, miraculously, clear. He's already messed this up enough. He can't let Steve see any more of how he feels.

"Yes." A soft smile appears on Steve's face, then fades away. "Are you?"

"As long as you're happy, then it's fine." Bucky's nails are digging into his right palm so hard, he wouldn't be surprised if they drew blood.

"That's not the question."

"Stubborn asshole."

"Buck," Steve says, and he knows he's not getting out of this one.

"I knew you were going back to her. I couldn't help but hope, though... maybe you would change your mind, return to the future after all." Bucky looks down and shakes his head. "Maybe I'd be the one who could grow old with you."

There's a terrible grinding noise as the chair moves, then the sound of quiet footsteps. Steve's hand is on Bucky's shoulder. He doesn't turn to look at Steve. Can't.

"I'm sorry. You were always better at this future thing. I thought you'd be alright without me." There's a moment's pause. Bucky can hear Steve take a long, wheezing breath. "I've seen you die twice. I can't bear to watch it happen a third time."

Bucky should react to that with sympathy -- he should try to understand -- but he can't. He reaches up with his left hand and forces Steve's hand off of his shoulder.

"You told me you'd stay with me 'til the end of the line. You promised." His voice is shaking now. "You promised me that! Did that -- did that mean nothing to you?" He's staring at Steve, now, though he can't remember when that happened. Steve looks hurt by this. He doesn't feel bad about that. He doesn't know if he wishes that he did.

"Oh." 

"Yeah. 'Oh'."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Bucky. I thought I would come back, just older, and it would be okay."

"Yeah, well. It's not."

Bucky turns his back on Steve and walks away. The record is still playing, and the birds are still chirping, but Steve is silent.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! kudos and comments are appreciated


End file.
